The Light
by Mish
Summary: A story inspired by a message board thread concerning the light in Frodo's face...


Author's note: The inspiration for this was taken from a thread I read on the Barrow Downs' message board concerning Frodo's light. So I don't take credit for the ideas presented here. They are mainly from the people posting in that thread (specifically Child of the 7th Age, Raven_Winter, stone of vision, and piosenniel), and there is a bit from Tolkien, as well. I don't know how the story itself turned out, but I offer it anyway...  
  
By the way, this is dedicated to a Sam-loving friend of mine around here...you know who you are... ;)  
  
Setting: Bag End after the Quest but before Frodo sails West  
  
*-*-*-*-*  
  
Sam Gamgee slipped quietly out of Bag End, shutting the door with a soft click. He had assured Rosie that he was merely going out for a breath of air and to look for Frodo, who had disappeared into the garden over an hour ago. He turned down the garden path and breathed deep. The fragrant air was soothing, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves in otherworldly song. Sam tilted his head back and gazed at the summer night sky. The west still held a bit of light, the purple-pink highlighting the horizon. But the most spectacular sight was the display of stars scattered like diamonds across the heavens. Sam held his breath, awed by the sheer majesty of it all. Above him shone the brightest star, the Star of Eärendil -- most beloved by the elves, Galadriel had said. "It's beautiful..." he breathed, unable to draw his eyes away from it.  
  
A small sigh from somewhere nearby startled him, and he spun around quickly. Frodo lay on the grass a short distance away near a rose arbor. By his closed eyes and the steady rise and fall of his chest, Sam guessed he was asleep. Frodo was on his side, slightly curled, with hands resting close beside his head. The thing that caught Sam's attention most, though, was the fact that he could see Frodo clearly despite the darkness of the evening. He had seen Frodo's light often enough for him not to be surprised, but he still marveled at it when it expressed itself so brightly. Moving closer to his friend, Sam settled himself beside Frodo and sat watching him.  
  
He thought back to several times on the Quest and after when the light had been especially strong: in Rivendell, when Frodo was recovering from his deadly wound; in Ithilien, when they had paused to rest and Frodo had fallen asleep in the ferns; in Mordor; in Minas Tirith...  
  
*****  
  
His memory dwelled more on the latter two. A dead wind blew, foul air carried by the breeze. Sam's mouth went dry, and he found himself back in Mordor. Frodo sat before him, his slight shuddering frame and gaunt features causing Sam's heart to ache in pity. Sam was helping his master take a sip of water -- he remembered having to force him to drink; but Frodo flatly refused any food, and there was nothing Sam could do to change his mind. So, after helping Frodo lay down, he prepared to lay himself next to him.  
  
"Sam," said Frodo upon seeing him not take any for himself. "You must drink as well. And eat."  
  
"Mr. Frodo, you need your rest." Supplies had been low for the longest time, but it seemed they wouldn't last much longer now. They must remain long enough to carry the two to the mountain. "Just go to sleep. I'll be fine."  
  
"No, Sam." Frodo sat up, arms crossed and brow furrowed.  
  
'Still stubborn,' Sam sighed.  
  
"Drink, at least. It won't be any good if you collapse of dehydration before we get there. I won't lay back down until you've had some water." A spark flickered in those brilliant blue eyes.  
  
Sam opened his mouth to argue, but he knew it was useless. Frodo was right. And there was no arguing with those eyes, staring defiantly -- and pleadingly. He took a small sip. "There, Mr. Frodo, I've had a drink. Please lay down now."  
  
With a resigned sigh, Frodo eased himself back onto the cold, grey, rocky ground and was soon asleep. Sam watched him a moment, then curled up beside him. A sharp pain in his side caused him to shoot back into a sitting position. He fumbled in his pockets and pulled out the object of his discomfort. It lay cool in his hand: the phial of Galadriel. A steady glow emitted from the treasure, and Sam hurriedly attempted to put it away for fear its bright light would serve as a beacon to any enemy happening to glance out across Mordor's plain. But his hand wouldn't move, and he noticed that the light remained gentle, not piercing. Another light nearby of similar intensity caught his attention, and he turned to Frodo.  
  
The Ring-bearer lay peacefully sleeping. Sam had not seen peace in him for many days, and the sight of it made him smile. Once again, Frodo was shining; but for some reason, Sam did not feel afraid that the light would give their position away. He was comforted by it. Suddenly, a thought came to him, and he glanced from his master to the phial and to his master again. The light in both appeared to be related -- beautiful and soft... And it seemed to Sam that the phial was almost like a representation of what Frodo would become in time. Did Galadriel know? Already the light was beginning to shine through. "It will shine still brighter when night is about you," Sam murmured the Lady's words to himself. "The phial is a light to us here in the darkness we face. The light of Frodo's love shines in the shadows of darkness and evil in the world to light the way for others..."  
  
*****  
  
Scenes flashed ahead to Minas Tirith. There had been many days of rejoicing after Sam and Frodo had fled the brink of death and woken, and Strider -- no, Aragorn -- had married Elrond's daughter Arwen on Midsummer's Day. Sam had been beside himself with joy at all that had happened, and even Frodo enjoyed the time spent with the King, although he was very quiet and at times went off by himself. But as time drew on, Sam felt the need to head home. Frodo must have felt the same calling, for one day he came up to Sam and told him they would be leaving within a week.  
  
It was evening, and Sam was in search of his master. Stepping through the archway from Frodo's room to the yard beyond, Sam found him lying on his back on the western wall's ledge, fast asleep. One arm lay curled about his stomach; the other clutched something on a chain around his neck. The red sun was setting, casting golden light about Frodo's form as a halo. Suddenly Sam gasped and ran forward. "Mr. Frodo!" he called, stumbling toward him. His master was disappearing! Sam could already see the light from the sunset shining right through him. But as he neared, he realized that the light came from Frodo himself, not the sun behind him. 'That's beginning to scare me,' Sam thought to himself. 'No one's supposed to shine like that.'  
  
He climbed up onto the wall beside Frodo and peered down the other side cautiously. "I don't understand how he can sleep up here without being afraid of falling. It's a long drop," he muttered. Turning to look at him, he added, "I don't even like being up here when I'm awake!" He hopped back down onto the cool grass.  
  
"Greetings, Samwise," came a gentle, friendly voice from behind.  
  
Sam jumped. "Oh, Gandalf! You startled me!"  
  
The old wizard chuckled. "So I see. I apologize." He strode up to stand beside Sam. "How is he?"  
  
As if in reply, Frodo whimpered in his sleep and turned over onto his side. He was now facing the two watchers, and his hand slipped off his necklace slightly...just enough for Sam to see the white jewel that hung there.  
  
"That's new," he commented, pointing at it. "Do you know where he got that?"  
  
"I believe Queen Arwen gave it to him for comfort when the pain and darkness of memory assail him." Gandalf frowned slightly and brushed away some of the curls from the pale forehead. "I wouldn't think he'd need it so soon," he murmured to himself.  
  
"Gandalf," Sam began, turning to him. "I have something I want to talk to you about. About Frodo."  
  
"Let us find a place to sit down, and we can talk." Gandalf led Sam to a tree not far away. Sam glanced back at Frodo worriedly, as if unsure of something. "We'll let him rest a bit more while we talk," Gandalf said. "I'll keep an eye on him. He will be fine." Sam nodded and took a seat beside his old friend. "So, Sam, what is troubling you?"  
  
"Well, you see, sir..." Sam fidgeted, unsure of how to say what was on his mind. "There's this light I see in Frodo from time to time. I was wondering what caused it. I've always thought Frodo had a bit of elvish blood in him; he is different from all other hobbits. I can't explain it. But even Captain Faramir saw it in him. He said Frodo had an elvish air, and that only strengthened what I knew all along. So is this glow from the elf in him, or is it something different? I know elves have a soft light shining in them, like the reflection of starlight. I've seen it."  
  
"They do, Sam," Gandalf replied. "And I know of what you speak. I have seen his light, too. But does that light seem the same in him as it is in the elves? I think you have another idea of what his light is, one that you believe more, perhaps..."  
  
Sam sighed. "Yes," he said quietly. "I believe...I believe it is his spirit. His spirit of love which sacrificed all to save Middle-earth. To save all that he loved from harm. He knew from the very beginning that he was very incapable of fulfilling the Quest. He knew the whole matter was completely above him. But he gave himself anyway. He knew it had to be done, and he would do all that he could to do his part. He carried a burden too great for anyone all because of his love. And it shines through." Sam stared over at his sleeping friend. "You have heard what happened in the end. He failed. He was overcome and claimed the Ring as his own -- and it still haunts him. I know. I can see it behind the mask he puts up to keep us from worrying about him. He feels he is a total failure, even though the Ring is gone and the Quest achieved. While he failed physically, I say he succeeded morally. And that is what really counts. He had taken on the task promising to go as far as physically, mentally, and spiritually possible, and he did. He couldn't help that the Ring broke him in the end as much as he would have been able to help it had Gollum crushed him with a rock or strangled him." Sam paused a moment, choking back tears at the thought. "So whatever Mr. Frodo may say, I say he accomplished the task and did it well. I doubt anyone else could have gone nearly as far as Frodo did -- not even Strider or Glorfindel or some other great figure."  
  
"I agree with you, Sam," Gandalf said softly. He, too, watched Frodo on the ledge. A slow, loving smile crossed his face as he looked at the young Ring- bearer. "I couldn't agree more. If only Frodo could understand it for himself. Indeed, no one else could have done it. Even the Wise were afraid to handle it. We have seen how easily it corrupted. Frodo was set aside by a Power outside our understanding to carry out this part of the Master Plan. Only in the end can we see how truly great a part we each played in the Story." Sam's head shot up, and his mind went back to the discussion he and Frodo had had on the stairs of Cirith Ungol. So they weren't the only ones who saw themselves as part of some magnificent Tale being unfolded! "For you, Samwise," Gandalf continued, "have played one of the greatest parts in the Story yourself." He smiled at the hobbit.  
  
"Oh, Gandalf." Sam blushed and looked down. "We're not talking about me. And I didn't do nothin' special. I just did what I had to. I just looked after Frodo."  
  
"Exactly my point," Gandalf replied. "No doubt Frodo has told you himself: he couldn't have gotten far without his Samwise. You were and are very dear to him, Sam. You rescued him more than once from sure torment and death, and you kept him going when he just wanted to lie down and die. You gave him comfort. You carried him up the Mountain when he was too weak to do anything more than crawl, if even that. You were there at the end with him, when he needed his best friend more than anything else. Without you, Sam, all would have been lost. I know." He winked at him. "Frodo has spoken with me."  
  
"Yes, well..." Sam had become rather uncomfortable. "So that's what I believe the light is," he said, going back to the original topic. "Frodo's spirit, tested and strengthened and purified by all the trials of the Quest, shining through for everyone to see."  
  
"And with that, Sam, I believe you have answered your own question about the light's source." The wizard leaned back against the tree.  
  
There was silence for a moment; then Sam spoke up again. "Can everyone see it? I haven't heard many others talking about it, not that they would speak of it openly, mind you; but I think Merry and Pippin would tell me if they saw it."  
  
"Perhaps in time it will become obvious to all, but for now..." Gandalf let out a long sigh and did not finish the thought.  
  
"I've noticed, also," Sam said, "that he seems to be fading from the physical world at times. In fact --" He stopped, seemingly embarrassed by what he was going to say.  
  
"Go on," Gandalf encouraged.  
  
"You...you may think me silly or odd to be saying this," Sam continued haltingly. "But...well, one time in Mordor I thought of something. You know the star-glass the Lady Galadriel gave to Frodo? There are times when Frodo seems to be...to be the embodiment of the phial. Both shine with an inner light..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away.  
  
Then he felt a hand fall softly on his shoulder. "My dear Samwise," Gandalf murmured. "You may be nearer the mark than you guess. I once said to myself back in Rivendell not too long after Frodo awoke that he may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can..."  
  
*****  
  
"For eyes to see that can," Sam repeated, now back in the garden of Bag End. He focused again on Frodo before him and was surprised to find him awake and propped up on one elbow, staring at him.  
  
"What were you thinking about, Sam?" he asked in a quiet voice, a kind smile lighting his face.  
  
"Oh! Nothing, Mr. Frodo," Sam quickly replied, blushing and glancing away. "I just came to look for you and make sure you were all right."  
  
"Mm-hm." Frodo didn't seem convinced, but he let it go with a gentle laugh and stretched. "Very well, Sam. If you say so. I am fine. I just came out for a bit of peace and thinking, and I suppose I fell asleep." He stood and took a deep breath of the cool night air. "Look at the stars!" he exclaimed, his eyes drawn upward. "Aren't they marvelous?"  
  
Sam rose to his feet beside him. "They are, Mr. Frodo," he agreed, tilting his head to look at them again. Eärendil twinkled far above, and Sam cast a side-glance at Frodo, who was still gazing at the sky with eyes wide in wonder. Then Frodo sighed and looked over at him.  
  
"Okay, Sam, we can go inside now!" he chuckled. "That's why you came to check on me, right?" Grinning, he linked his arm into Sam's. "Come, before Rosie fears we've lost ourselves in the vastness of Bag End's gardens!" he cried, clutching Sam's arm dramatically and putting the other hand to his forehead.  
  
"All right, Mr. Frodo," Sam laughed, and they strolled off together back to the warmth and comfort of their hobbit hole, where Rosie stood waiting. 


End file.
